Don't Hold Me
by teammaddison
Summary: AU STORY: Addison finds out she is pregnant after discovering she has cancer. It is recommended that she terminate her pregnancy, and begin treatment immediately, but after the guilt of aborting Mark's first baby, she wants a second chance to be a mom, and does not go through with the termination. How will her bull-headed desire to be a mom affect her diagnosis long term? RATED M.
1. Chapter 1

**Don't Hold Me: **

**Authors Note:** This fanfiction was created to go with the alternative universe video of the same name that I am creating, which will eventually be posted on YouTube when completed. **TRIGGER WARNING:** Same general idea as my other stories just to be safe, although all of this may not apply, depression, anxiety, suicide (mentions, attempts etc.) cancer, mentions of medical treatment, tests, procedures, dying or talk of death, mental health issues, self-harm, etc. May contain harsh language. If you are easily triggered this story may not be the best fit for you.

**Summary:** Addison finds out she is pregnant after discovering she has cancer. It is recommended that she terminate her pregnancy, and begin treatment immediately, but after the guilt of aborting Mark's first baby, she wants a second chance to be a mom, and does not go through with the termination. How will her bull-headed desire to be a mom affect her diagnosis long term? Will she be strong enough to get them both through this? Rated M for Mature.

* * *

**Chapter 1: **

**Addison's POV:**

* * *

"Your test results came back… it's cancer." Naomi explains, and I am stunned into silence. "Addison I am so sorry." She says, and then goes on to tell Mark and I the exact cancer "acute myeloid leukemia" with I don't know what mutations because my body goes numb, and it is like I am underwater. I can see her lips moving, but I can't hear her properly. I look over to Mark who looks just as dumbfounded as I do. I am healthy. I take vitamins. I buy all the organic things and _exercise_. I can't have _cancer_. This must be a mistake at the labs or …. _Something_. She was doing labs to see if my iron defiant anemia was under control enough with the supplements to continue with the next round of IVF. It had gotten worse after the last round. This was not even almost on my radar. I can't be _sick_. She shakes her head, and gives me a sad, pitying look.

"Don't look at me like that." I demand, the numbness giving way to trembling as I return her look with one of disgust. Mark takes me in his arms, and squeezes my hands tightly, but I push him away, as if this is somehow his fault. I take a deep breath and move back. I don't want either of them touching me right now.

"Like what, Addison?" She asks gently, but her expression clears, and is replaced with one of guilt, as if she's suddenly realized what done.

"Like you're already planning my funeral." I say, before she can say anything else. "This is just another crappy thing to happen in my super crappy life. I will get through this and the _two of you_ don't get to be sad when _I'm_ not even sad." The trembling is getting worse, and maybe I almost fall because there is a pause, Naomi looks like she is going to apologize again, but then Mark calls my name, questioningly and is across the room in a second, grabbing me, and leading me to one of the overstuffed chairs in Naomi's office. I sink down into the chair, resting my head in my hands, trying to get the room to stop spinning. I have not even had five minutes to process this news, yet it seems like my best friend is already convinced that I'm going to die.

"There are options Addison, I've set you up an appointment with the best team in LA, for tomorrow afternoon, we're going to get you through this."

"I know about the options Nae…." I say, looking up at her, too shocked to cry. "I guess I didn't realize that you can do all the things, and still end up here. I just didn't realize I was out of time."

"What is her prognosis?" Mark asks.

"The oncology team will know more, but given that she's only 38, and the type of mutation… if she starts right away…."

"Just give me a number Naomi." I say. I am too tired to play games with her or listen to her skirting around the issue with Mark.

"Five years, maybe more maybe less. It just depends on how your body responds to the chemotherapy treatments."

"_Five years._" I echo, and I let Mark hold me, because he needs it more than I do. "That can't be _right_, Naomi, look at me, _I'm fine_." I say, shaking my head. The first stage of grief is denial.

"You're fine, for now, but I did all the tests, Addison I checked and double checked…." She is crying and makes her way to Mark and I to offer me a hug. I let them hug me, not fighting back, letting my body go limp in-between them.

"It's going to be OK." She says, "We caught this early, it's going to be OK."

"I hope so… I really do." I whisper.

* * *

**A Few Days Later**

* * *

"What's wrong?" Amelia asks, knocking on the bathroom door. I am crying hard, so hard that I have caused my nose to bleed, or at least that's what I tell myself caused it as I push tissue to my nose, trying to stop the flow. I know she can hear me. Since Mark and I told her about the cancer diagnosis she's been more like an annoying child than my brilliant neurosurgeon sister, who should have a million better things to do than baby-sit me. She hasn't left my side, which is really a bit much when you consider that she both lives and works with me. I haven't had hardly any time alone to just process what's going on. Time alone in my head with just _ME _telling _MYSELF_ what to do without Mark or Naomi or Amelia interjecting their opinions.

Finally, the bleeding slows to a stop, I get a wet wipe and gently clean my face, cleaning away the blood and wiping my eyes, trying to stop the tears. I glance over to the counter where the open pregnancy test box sits, next to my cell phone, nail polish and make up. I pick up the test and read the results. Could this day get any more challenging? I open the door and she is standing there, clearly worried. I just want to run, to scream, to escape everyone's pitying eyes, but instead I just look up at her, my eyes red and swollen from the tears as I hold out the pregnancy test.

"I'm pregnant." I murmur, a hopeless expression, in my eyes. Something that was supposed to bring such joy. Something I have wanted since before I left Derek and moved out to LA with Mark brings only sadness now. I know that the prognosis for myself and the baby isn't a great one. I see this all the time, pregnant mothers, diagnosed with cancer, begging to save the lives of their unborn babies. It is not uncommon, but it rarely ends well. Either the mother dies, or the baby dies, or both mother and baby die. It is just not a happy ending where you bring home a baby in nine months and have the family you've always dreamed of.

"Oh Addison…." She whispers, pulling me into her arms as the tears come again, and this time I do not make any attempts to stop them. In a weird way I need to feel this pain. It lets me know that I am still alive.

* * *

**Later That Night**

* * *

"Go Away." I mumble when Amelia knocks on the door but knowing how well she listens I might as well have just left the door standing wide open.

"Do you have a plan yet?" Amelia asks, coming the rest of the way into my bedroom, and plopping herself down on the bed next to me. I know by her tone she is talking about the baby thing and not the cancer thing.

"I want to keep it. I want to be a mom, and I want Mark to have something to hold onto when I'm gone." I say the last part comes out dully, but without hesitation, not really thinking about the meaning of the words I am saying. The last few days have been hard with Mark. He's been so gentle and delicate with me, like he's afraid to hurt me, despite the fact that I'm fine for now and nothing is really any different than it was before we got the test results.

"Don't talk like that Addison, you're not going anywhere. Everything is going to work out." She says, in that concerned, false positive tone she gets when she's really trying hard to convince herself of whatever just spewed out of her mouth.

"I don't think it's going to be fine, this time Amelia." I say, shaking my head as the anxiety continues building. I don't know what to do with it. I have nothing to do with it, and don't know how to release it. I feel like a soda that has been shaken almost to the point of bursting.

"Auntie Amelia." She says, teasing me, tasting the words on her tongue, and smiling at me like I've given her the most wonderful gift. "I know you divorced my brother, but I'm still going to be the baby's Aunt, right?" She is trying to make me laugh, and so I smile a little. She knows it has been the plan from the beginning for her to be Aunt, and God Mother to any of the Montgomery-Sloan babies since Derek and I were unable to have children. She always tries to spin things around into a positive light. I wonder if this is something she learned when she was in rehab? I try to think back, has she always been this way? I know she doesn't mean anything by it, but her brightness is intrusive, and is beginning to annoy me.

"You can't tell anyone, Amelia please." I am curled up on the bed, staring at the wall, and she is still right beside me. "The chance of the fetus surviving to term with my diagnosis is slim at best." I can't even let my brain goes where it want's to about how ironic my life is. That after months of fertility treatments and six rounds of failed IVF I get pregnant naturally after being diagnosed with a cancer that's going to kill me. This is so…. Exactly what my life is.

"Mark needs to know." She says forcefully and I know this must be hard on her. Last year she delivered a baby with anencephaly and donated his organs to help other babies. She named him Christopher, her unicorn baby. I decide to just have her little bits of excitement about this baby, after all she's been through, she deserves, something, although I'm nearly positive that this is not necessarily is the right thing to be looking forward to. When the time comes, if the baby doesn't make it, we can grieve together. Mark is working late tonight. I wish he'd just come home already. I miss his warmth. This week has been a roller coaster I just wish I could get off of. I figure that I must be pretty early in the pregnancy for it not to have shown up on the vast variety of tests they did on my blood they took. I just want to go to work, I want to save lives. I want to deliver babies and have slutty sex with my super slutty husband in the on-call rooms. I just want to pretend like this nightmare never happened.

"I just need time to process everything." I say, trying to sound calm and unconcerned. Is pregnancy even compatible with AML? I have never seen a case personally. Supposedly it only haves to one in seventy-five thousand pregnancies to one in one hundred thousand pregnancies.

"How much time? You're meant to check in to hospital tomorrow for your first round of treatments." Her voice breaks at this as she suddenly becomes serious and looks at me concerned, like she wants to say more, but doesn't dare.

"I'll give you a day. You'll need more blood work done, a vaginal ultrasound, prenatal checkup, special vitamins to help replenish what you're not getting through food."

"Amelia!" I whine miserably. My head is pounding in protests with a stabbing pain right between my eyes. I pull the pillow over my face in protest. "Please this is making my head hurt." I say, and I can tell she's trying to take it down a notch or two. I put my hand over the spot where baby would be, and she puts her hand over mine. "You're sounding more like me than I am right now." I say, giving her a small sad smile.

"I understand you want the rest of this to go away, but it's not going to go away Addison."

"I know." I say, realizing then how cold I am. I pull the quilt over me, but it still just doesn't really seem like enough. I get up and take the heated blanket from the closet, plugging it in and layering it. Sheet, heated blanket, and then quilt.

"It's the middle of July Addison." Amelia points out.

"Hey! Do I judge your sleeping habits?"

"Sometimes."

"Inappropriate men don't count." I say, but I am beginning to relax now, starting to get sleepy under the heavy warmth of the blankets.

"There is combination chemotherapy, targeted therapy with monoclonal antibodies, stem cell transplants, and so many others. There is even a clinical trial going on where they combine arsenic trioxide therapy with a stem cell transplant. There are options Addison, this diagnosis is unspeakably cruel, but we can do this, together. It doesn't have to be a death sentence."

"You and I are both educated enough to know that's not true." I say, turning my back on her, I close my eyes forcing myself to breathe calm, deep even breaths until she eventually is convinced, I am sleeping and leaves the room. I don't sleep though. The remission rate for acute promyelocytic leukemia after induction of chemotherapy is around ninety percent, in those under sixty, and the remission rate for other types of AML after induction is around sixty-seven percent, both of those numbers are great until you look at the survival rate long term. Only twenty-seven perfect of those diagnosed with AML survive to the five-year mark. Even if this baby somehow survives, I will be lucky if I live to see it graduate kindergarten, and the guilt of that kills me inside. There is no _'right'_ answer.

* * *

**The next day**

* * *

"Addison needs to talk to you." Amelia says, pushing me towards Mark who is making a cup of coffee. If looks could kill she'd be laying on the floor.

"Now? Seriously?" I ask her. "I just woke up. I haven't even had caffeine yet."

"No time like the present." She says shrugging.

"What happened are you OK?" Mark asks, turning to me, eying me up and down. When he has decided that I look fine, he turns and gets his coffee, and then gestures to the table, like maybe we should sit if the conversation really is that serious. I pour myself a cup and join him, taking the seat furthest away from him, trying to ignore his questioning, worried gaze.

"I'm fine Mark." I say, and Amelia gives me a dirty look now. I silently glare at her like _'what do you expect me to say, he just found out I have cancer, this can't possibly be as bad as that.'._ "I just…." I start, trying to speak, but the words get lost. "I um…." I fidget with my hands, taking a drink of my coffee, stalling for time. I need more time. "I'm…." but anxiety has overtaken me, and I can't get the words out properly.

"Addison's pregnant and wants to keep the baby." Amelia bursts out.

"Amelia FILTER." I groan, my brain restoring my ability to use expressive language once the issue at hand was already out on the table. resting my face in my hands, instant tears, afraid to even look up at Mark. This baby is a miracle. We tried so hard to have a child of our own. I should be thrilled, but in reality I am just petrified.

"You were having trouble, you needed help." Amelia says, but then buries herself in the neuroscience today and a salmon cream cheese bagel.

Mark comes around to my chair, and I feel his hands on my shoulders, squeezing in support. "Is this true?" He asks. I smell the musky smell of his aftershave. I take in a deep breath, it is calming.

"I was _trying_ to tell you." I murmur. He sits down in the chair next to mine, and gently moves my hands away from my face, wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.

"How long have you known?" He inquires, and then "How does this change our plan?" We had met with the team of specialists, and formed a very specific plan, none of which included trying to preserve the life of an unborn fetus. I am supposed to go in for my first round of treatments tomorrow. We will have to call the doctors and let them know that we need to delay treatments, it's as simple as that.

"I just found out last night." I say, frowning a little. "The baby can't survive the treatments Mark, not at this stage." I try to say this as carefully as I can, but I am still crying, and his eyes fill with tears as well. It is hard to explain that I am crying over someone I have never met. The thought of choosing myself over the life inside of me _destroying me_. Why had it been so much easier the last time? I chastise myself. A tiny voice surfaces in my brain though. It hadn't been easier. What I did has left a lasting mark on my life that I will never be able to escape from.

"What can I do?" He asks, but I just shake my head. "I am only in my first trimester; our options are to terminate the pregnancy or forgo treatment until I am in my third trimester or deliver."

"No." Mark says, shaking his head to show just how much he means it. "You don't get to make that choice alone. Not this time." He takes my hands in his own squeezing them tightly. "We can have another baby Addison, I can't replace you." I close my eyes, and I can see as clear as day almost seven years ago, when I had found out I was pregnant after finding Mark in the supply closet with one of the Peds nurses Charlene. I wasn't going to tell him, but then I did. He was so excited. He went out and he bought this insane Yankee's onesie and a calendar with the due date circled in bright red ink. We were going to keep it. We were so motivated to get our shit together for her. Mark just couldn't leave Charlene alone though and I wasn't at a point in my life where I wanted to raise a child on my own. The third time I found them together I broke up with Mark, and then proceeded upstairs and had a fellow attending preform the abortion. I have regretted it every day from the moment it was completed, but it _was_ the right decision at the time.

"This is our second chance; can't you see it?" I ask him. The baby I aborted all those years ago was a girl. I know it was a girl. I was going to call her Ella, which was actually one of the names that Mark chose. When I asked him why he said, 'because it sounds like a name perfectly fit for a princess.'." I don't mean to, but I think about her every day. What would she have looked like? Would she have that same gap between her front teeth as I do? Would she have Mark's dirty blonde hair or my red hair? Would she want to twirl the baton in the marching band like my mother never let me? Would she love French fries dipped in strawberry ice cream like Mark? Who would she have grown up to be? Ella would have been six this year.

"No…. I can't if it involves sacrificing you." He says. "I'll come with you, I'll hold your hand, but we need to do what's best for you right now and that is not subjecting your already weak body to nine months of pregnancy induced hell. You need the treatments more than you need a baby Addison." He says, his voice is crackling, and I can tell he is trying to be strong, for me, but why? I don't need him to be my strong. I am not broken.

"I am not having another abortion Mark. We wanted this baby. We tried for this baby. After everything we've been through, things are different this time. This baby is a miracle who deserves a chance,"

"She could have both." Amelia says, I jump, startled, I had forgotten she was even in the room she was being so uncharacteristically quiet. "Twenty- eight to thirty weeks is ideal, but if she is able to make it to just thirteen weeks, she would be over the most critical time developmentally for baby, and the risk of the treatments affecting it, or causing long term damage is significantly lower." She points out, and I ignore the panging realization that she may only be on my side this very moment because she wants a new little niece or nephew, not because it's the actual right thing. She knows as well as I know that there has been no long-term studies on the effects of chemotherapy on babies in utero.

"I don't want to argue." I exclaim, putting my hands up in surrender and raising my voice over theirs. "It is my body, my choice, fortunately neither of you legally have a say." I remark, but they look so damn sad that I soften my expression and my tone. "There have been no long-term studies on the effects of chemotherapy to the baby in utero and I'm strong enough to survive this without putting it in harm's way. I will not be getting an abortion, or microwaving my baby, end of story." Mark looks like he would like nothing more than to strangle me and Amelia looks like she might cry. I know I am being selfish, but if I'm going to die anyway can't I be a little selfish? Just this once? "I really am OK. I'm going to be fine. You both need to relax. It's not time to be scared yet." I say, and then calmly get up, take my coffee, and walk away.

* * *

**Authors Note: **

Thank you for reading chapter one of Don't Hold Me! When I first started the draft for this story, I had the conflict be something completely different, and the story going in a completely different direction, but I realized that (original idea) was too similar to some other things I already have in the works for other stories, so didn't want it to be too similar. I also had several different thought paths on how Addison would cope with this whirlwind of information being thrown at her, so I went with what seemed a little more natural. Right now, she is a little big scared, but mostly in denial. 'I'm fine, everything's fine. I'm not sick, finding alternative, everyday causes for symptoms, etc.'

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PLEASE review. I would love to know what you're thinking of the story so far. I have some fantastic audio for the video where Addison says 'I'm his mom' so *SPOILER ALERT* the baby will be a little boy. What should she and Mark call him?

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	2. Chapter 2

**Don't Hold Me**

**Chapter 2 **

* * *

**TIME JUMP 4 WEEKS LATER **

* * *

"I'm scared." I say quietly. I take a deep breath, trying to force myself to relax as Arizona inserts the wand, trying to be careful, but I cringe all the same. "What if it's not breathing? What if my body is too broken to nourish this baby in a way it needs to grow?" I try not to move. This is uncomfortable, but she wanted the clearest image possible, and unfortunately at this stage of pregnancy a trans-vaginal ultrasound is the best image you'll get.

"Baby is measuring 8 weeks Addison, 8 week fetuses don't _'breathe.' _She says it jokingly, rolling her eyes a little, but smiling all the same. "If you want to have this baby I will see you through the pregnancy, if you don't we can discuss your options. Either way you're going to be fine Addison." She reminds me, and I think for a moment that is a little insensitive, considering I am dying and won't live long enough to see this baby graduate kindergarten. Am I making the right choice? Is it wrong to bring a child into this world, knowing I won't be here to raise him?

"I want this baby." I say, confidently, trying not to let my worry show "More than anything." I tear up as she points to the flickering on the screen, I watch as she does the different measurements. I can tell by the images that the baby is _**healthy.**_ I relax a little, and she hands me a print out of the ultrasound pictures she took. I can't stop smiling at them. "It's a boy. I know it's going to be a boy." I say, a warmth and joy I don't recognize wash over me. I can't help myself from daydreaming of what he will look like, and thinking of baby names. I'm going to be a mom. My baby is _healthy_ and I'm going to be a mom. For that one moment in time everything else is secondary.

"Everything looks good so far." She says, removing the wand and placing it on the metal tray for cleaning. She takes her gloves off, throwing them away, and then washes her hands before going behind the curtain so I can get cleaned up and dressed.

"What do you think the chances are?" I ask her, pulling the curtain back. She is caught off guard by the question, but recovers quite well, smiling softly, and pulling me into a reassuring hug.

"I don't think we should deal with chances." She says, "The baby is healthy, and your body is handling the pregnancy well. Lets take things one step at a time."

* * *

I call Mark and ask him to meet me in the cafeteria for lunch. It's not my favorite place, by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a good central meeting spot, and the food, well it isn't _that _bad.

"I wish I could have been there, done the appointment with you." He says, frowning a little, as we pay for our food and find a secluded area to sit down.

"Next time, this wasn't a scheduled appointment, Arizona is just kind." I hand him the printout of the ultrasound, and he looks down at it, momentarily excited, and then worried.

"Addison I don't want you to..."

"No. Don't say it." I say, biting my bottom lip hard, trying not to let his tone upset me. I want this baby. I would be a _good _mom to this baby, even if this isn't the way we planned it.

"to get attatched." Damn it. He said it anyway. He is looking at me like I am a delusional psychopath. Shouldn't I get a say in how I want to spend the time I have left?

"He's _healthy_." I protest.

"But _you're not_, and you know better than anyone how quickly a fetuses health can decline."

"His health isn't going to decline Mark, He is meant to be here." I am crying again, and I don't care that people are starring. Most of the hospital knows by now that I have been diagnosed with cancer. There was no way to conceal it with the fucking hospital grapevine rumor mill they have here.

"You keep saying he... It's a boy?" Mark asks.

"I don't know for sure yet, it's just a feeling." I confess.

"You have to end this Addison." He demands.

"He's all I ever wanted."

"I don't care what you want..." He takes my hands in his own. "Addison I care what you need, and right now this is not what you need."

"I have a seventy-five percent chance of dying within the next five years Mark, a few months isn't going to make those odds any less horrific." I push the food around on my plate. I was so hungry earlier, but his arguments have caused my mood to shift, and replaced the hunger with Nashua.

"You have a twenty-five percent chance of surviving, if you get the treatment."

"Just STOP!" I request forcefully.

"Stop what?"

"Stop making this all about what _you_ want."

"I'm not! Addison I just want ….."

"See? Again with what you want! You are, and you have been since the moment we found out. This is my fight, not yours and I..." My heart is racing. I am breathing harder than the occasion calls for. The tears are falling too hard, too fast. "I need him to survive. I need a reason to wake up in the morning and..." I want to say, _a reason to not just take a knife and end this now,_ but I don't. Instead just saying "I'm done." throwing my uneaten food in the trashcan, and walking away.

* * *

**Arizona's POV: **

* * *

"I need a consult." Mark says, catching me as I come out of a patients room. I try to smile, to remain upbeat, but I know what he wants. I know I just cannot give him the answers he is seeking.

"You're a plastic surgeon." I finally settle on these words, I know that he isn't here about anyone else. None of my patients need plastic surgery, and if a new patient had come in to the PIT I would have been paged to help treat.

"I'm aware." He says, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not about a patient, I'm here to talk about Addison."

"She's my patient." I inform him.

"You're a _pediatric_ surgeon. Last I checked Addison is over 18." He says, mockingly.

"I am pulling double duties, acting OB until chief finds a new attending."

"That's _Addison's_ job."

"Yes well we both know why she can't do it, so what is your point?" I ask. I am not meaning to be snarky, or put Addison down. She is a friend of mine. She's been my friend for years, but she is in no condition to work.

"You're giving her false hope, you're making her believe everything is fine."

"Everything may very well _be fine_."

"How could you say that?" Mark demands, so furiously that I take a step back from him. "Nothing is 'fine' Arizona, she has terminal cancer. She's dying. She's not fine.'

"Mark... I just meant that..." I falter, but it's too late.

"You're just as bad as she is."

I think about this for a minute, as I take off my mask, and my gloves, throwing them in the bin, and then pump some hand sanitizer on my hands. I take a deep breath, sighing trying to carefully think of the right words to say, so that I help instead of hurt. I think of something I read, I can't remember where, one of those trashy young adult dystopian future books. Divergent? No. The Hunger Games. It was a quote about hope, _'Hope is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective. A lot of hope is dangerous.'_ or something along those lines. Addison needs hope. Will she even have the drive to fight if her baby does not survive?

"She needs hope Mark. We can't take that away from her. It is the only thing she has left." I finally say simply, but my words are heavy, and they linger for a moment.

"She is delusional." He says, throwing his hands up in the air. "There is nothing I can do to make her see this is going to make things _WORSE." _

"It's her body. She has the right to do what she wants to with her body."

"She's being stupid Arizona. STUPID, now she's 8 weeks and it's almost too late to..." His face flushes with a mix of anger, anxiety and shame. I don't want to hear him say the words.

"I know it's hard to understand her choices."

"I can't even _imagine _why she thinks this is a good idea."

"It's understandable to be upset, to be scared."

"I know." He says, softly.

"Now take how bad you feel and multiply it by a million. That is how bad your wife is feeling right now. She's had her entire world turned upside down. She's scared out of her mind, she's feeling guilty, and alone. She needs your support right now Mark, not your judgment."

* * *

**ADDISON's POV:**

* * *

I am laying on the couch when Mark comes in that evening. He hands me a bouquet of my favorite flowers, and bends down, kissing me gently. All traces of our argument earlier erased. He had an emergency surgery, and so instead of waiting I took a taxi home I haven't resigned yet, although both he and Amelia have been lecturing me constantly.

_'If you are not going to get treatment the least you can do is stay home and rest.'_ They'd say, and then give me looks of concern that make me want to punch them in the face when they pass me in the hallways. I just want to take care of my patients. I am tired, but who isn't? I have worked several 14 hour shifts this week, mostly taking extra shifts to try and avoid Mark and Amelia at home. Exhaustion is to be expected. I am fine. I don't need to be babied.

"I need you to stay home. I need you to call Richard and put in your resignation." He says. Apparently our argument was not as forgotten as I thought it was.

"The hospital has a critical shortage. They need me."

"I need you." He sits down on the couch beside me, smoothing back my hair. His hands briefly cup my face, but then he looks down, and his face lightens ten shades. He put his hand on my chest, gently tracing the bruise that I know is showing. I had been so careful all day, making sure my top was just so, so that it wouldn't show. It must have shifted when I laid down. I put my hand ontop of his, our eyes lock, and I shake my head. 'no'.

"Let me see." He demands.

"Mark I'm fine." I protest. This is all just silly.

"You're not fine." He says, eerily calm as he gingerly pulls back my top, reveling a deep purple bruise on my collar bone. "What happened?" He demands and I shake my head again. Why does anything have to have happened?

"Nothing." I say miserably, embarrassed.

"Clearly something... you're working yourself too hard."

"It was the coffee grinder." I finally say.

"What?" Mark asks, confused.

"I opened the cabinet door to get something and the coffee grinder fell, and hit me."

"You're lying."

"I'm not! You didn't put it away properly this morning, and I have been telling you for months we need to hire someone to fix the cabinets because they are clearly not level. I guess I will have to do it myself." I say, suddenly agitated all over again.

"The bruise is as big as my hand." He says, holding his hand over the bruise, to gauge it's size. "We need to get you to the emergency room. You could be bleeding internally."

"What? Mark no... It's just a bruise." There is a long, full pause.

"This wouldn't have happened if only you'd have-" He accuses, but I stop him.

"Hadn't what? Hadn't tried to fix myself something to eat when no one else was home? You can't bring work into this Mark. I wasn't hurt at work I was hurt at home so clearly home is more dangerous."

"You need someone to stay with you. I will see if Amelia or I can..."

"You're not adjusting your schedules to accommodate mine. Seriously Mark. I don't need a baby-sitter."

"You need treatments."

"I don't."

"This is going to get worse."

"I'm fine."

"Does it hurt?" He asks so gently.

"No." I admit. He gives me a look and I amend my answer. "Not much."

"I need you to want this Addison."

"We don't want the same things. You're not going to convince me."

"We can have more children Addison, when you're in remission we can-"

"I'm not going to be in remission Mark, the odds are not in my favor."

"You don't know that- you can't know that."

"When have the odds ever been in my favor?"

* * *

**Authors Note:**

* * *

Thank you to everyone who is reading, and to everyone who is reviewing Don't Hold Me! I am trying to toy around with the idea of her being in denial for a bit. They say the first stage of grief is denial. I am really interested in how this is going to play out with her and Mark, and eventually the baby. When doing research for this story I found that chemo is not given in the first trimester, and is safest for the baby if given in the second or third trimester. Knowing the risks, for a baby she wants, I feel like Addison would delay treatments for a given period of time, until she feels the baby is strong enough to handle her getting the treatments. I feel like in this story Addison was always very much wanting the baby, even though she is scared, while Mark was always on the other side, and just wants Addison to get the treatments as soon as possible, so she can have a higher chance of remission.


	3. Chapter 3

**Don't Hold Me:**

**Chapter 3:**

* * *

1 month Later

Addison 12 weeks

* * *

"I'm sorry Addison I can't."

"What? Why?" I demand miserably.

"I have zero self-control." He admits, kissing me on the lips, cheek, and then down my neck, before moving from on top of me, to beside me on the bed.

"You tease!" I accuse, the _'who me?'_ look on his face makes me laugh a little, as I hit him with a pillow.

"It's too dangerous, your platelet count is low, and the baby is wreaking havoc on your body." He reminds me as he pulls me against him, holding me gently. "I would never forgive myself if I hurt you."

I am starting to feel weak again, it comes, and it goes. Some days I feel relatively normal, and other days I can barely even get out of bed. On the good days I want to do normal things. So, I let him hold me, and don't argue too much. I just …. Want to be close to him again.

"So, what you're saying is we will never have sex again because I have leukemia?" I ask, pouting a little, frustrated with just how much of my life this is taking away, I just want things to be _normal_ again.

"Unless you magic yourself into remission." He answers.

"You completely and totally suck at husbanding."

"Husbanding? Is that even a word?"

"It's totally a word."

"You're twelve weeks now, you could begin the treatments, get into remission, get your life back."

"I do not want to spend my life in a hospital Mark."

"A _marvelous_ realization after spending all those years becoming a doctor." He jokes, but I just frown at him. I wonder if this is how all doctors, turned patients feel. The place that was once my sanctuary soon to become my hell.

"You know what I mean. If I start the induction treatment, I will have to stay in hospital three to five weeks after the therapies, and who knows what such harsh treatments will do to the baby at this stage. I don't want to fry his brain or damage his organs Mark."

"So, you still think it's a boy?"

"We should call him Oliver, or Benjamin."

"Seriously?" Mark wrinkles his nose up. "Sounds a little…. Preppy…. Don't you think?"

"Not preppy, strong, he's going to need a strong name."

"What are you going to do if it's a girl?"

"He's not."

"How do you know?"

"I just do, trust me."

"Trust is not scientific form of proof Addison."

"Do I really have to be scientific? Now?"

"I guess not. Which name do you like better?"

"Why not both? Oliver Benjamin Sloan. We can call him Ollie for short."

"Ok…. But Ollie is definitely preppy." He says with a smile.

"Strong!" I argue back laughing, He pushes me against the headboard then, kissing me again, silencing my laughter. Our eyes meet and I feel a pang of guilt, laughing and joking at a time like this, but if I didn't laugh, I would cry so much I'd fill the room and drown in my own tears.

"God, Addison, I love you so much." He murmurs, against my ear.

* * *

"I'm sorry…" I say handing the letter or resignation to Richard, sinking down on the seat on the opposite side of his desk. "In light of my diagnosis I am unable to preform my job to the standard I have become accustomed to holding myself to." I am trembling. I've never voluntarily quit a position before.

"I will hold off filling the position permanently for as long as I can, and I will put you on emergency medical leave in the system, so you maintain your health insurance."

"Thank you, although I don't know when I will-" I think 'if I will' but that seems a little dramatic. "Be able to return." The average cost for the first month of induction treatment is $36,000, and while I could pay that, it is nice to have the health insurance that the hospital provides, in addition to my own private insurance. There's a chance this baby might get an inheritance, instead of a mountain of debt.

"It's OK Addison, you need to take the time to get well, do the treatments, achieve remission."

"I'm worried about the baby."

"I'm worried about you."

"Why does that not surprise me?" I say, harsher than intended and then "I'm sorry Richard."

"You have a right to be angry."

"I am thinking of joining a support group." I admit, not sure why I am admitting this to him. He is a friend, he is a mentor, he is practically family, I still don't want him to see me as weak.

"That's a great idea." He says, and I smile a little. "It will help keep your motivation up, and who knows you might make some friends."

"I have friends…." I say defensively.

"That can relate to what you're going through?"

"Well no."

"Exactly." We both stand up, and he hugs me before I turn and leave his office. Swallowing hard to get the knot in my throat to go down, that is threatening to make tears spill over. Barley making it back to my car before like a damn breaking they release.

* * *

"Don't worry I'm not drinking." I say, when Amelia comes into the kitchen, and questioningly eyes the wine glass in my hand. "Just wishing, it's really grape juice."

"It's bad enough that you want to be drinking?"

"Wouldn't you?" I ask her, I mean the cancer thing, yes, but "I quit my job today."

"I'm sorry Addison."

"I just - I wish I would have known that the last time I cut was going to be the last time." I say, missing the OR, it's been over a week since I last did surgery, a Fetoscopic Laser Photocoagulation to correct twin twin transfusion syndrome in an 18-year-old patient. I saved her babies. That should be a fantastic victory, but I can't help feeling sad.

"I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't operate." Amelia says, "Operating saved my life."

"I know it did."

"You were an inspiration."

"I'm still going to be here to keep you in line, I'm not going anywhere." Damn, this is getting depressing, I take a long drink. Wishing it really was wine or maybe something harder.

"You better not." She says, and I wish with all my might that I could keep this promise.

* * *

"I think we need to talk about your treatment options Addison." Arizona says, moving the wand across my stomach. I breathe a huge sigh of relief when I hear his heart beating. "He's fine." I say, watching the screen. "He's still fine."

"Yes, he looks healthy." She agrees. Taking down all the different measurements, and then printing me the images. She wipes the gel away from my stomach, before giving me her hand to help me sit up. "Mark says you've been dizzy?"

"It could just be the increased pressure on my uterus combined with the anemia."

"….and that you had a bad nosebleed."

"Again, all of this could be explained by the fact I am indeed pregnant."

"Don't fight me on this."

"You're overreacting."

"I want to do some bloodwork, just to be sure. It looks like you're bruising is worse than last time as well, it might be nothing, but you know as well as I do it's better to prevent complications than to treat complications. I am also going to send you to maternal fetal medicine, so they can help me keep a closer eye on baby's progress."

"I _am_ maternal fetal medicine." I say, she looks at me disapprovingly and I say "please don't Arizona. He is healthy and anything they would do there you can do here. Our ultrasound machines are the exact same." I would know, considering it is my specialty to know.

"I'm not qualified to run the extensive tests."

"No, but I am. I can tell you exactly what tests to run, what you're looking for on the ultrasound, whatever you need."

"Why are you so set against MFM?"

"I don't need another group of people telling me how_ stupid_ I am for making this choice."

"I don't know Addison… I would feel better if….."

"Please Ari?"

"If anything were to go wrong it would open this hospital up to face massive lawsuits."

"I could sign a waiver, saying I refused the referral."

"Fine, but only because you're my friend, and only for now. The moment that baby even hiccups strangely inside of you we're calling for help."

"Deal." I say, figuring it's the best I am going to end up getting.

"And I want you to consider starting the treatments."

"No… It's too dangerous for Arizona." I move my hands protectively over the tiny little bump where baby is. "The risk for placental injury, sepsis, and spontaneous abortion or premature birth is increased in women who experience the periodic episodes of myelosuppression that accompany leukemia treatment. None of those outcomes are particularly positive ones."

"Is the risk of those things greater than the risk of you never getting to see your child grow up?"

"I won't get to see him grow up if the induction therapy kills him, will I?" I say, and I know I have her in a checkmate. "I am not saying no forever Ari, just no for now, as soon as he's born, we can start the treatments." She nods, but has a second of doubt in her eyes, I know she's thinking the same thing I am, just too polite to say it. _'What if by the time he's born it's too late?'_.

* * *

**Authors Note: **

Thank you everyone for reading this chapter of Don't Hold Me! Please review and let me know what you're thinking so far : )


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't Hold Me**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

**AUTHORS NOTE: **

I overlooked so many things in this story. Since I said Addison is 38 years old in the first chapter, I will go with that, but since this is an AU story I am going to say that everything in Private Practice and Grey's Anatomy (Season 1-5) and Private Practice (Season 1-6) that happened concerning any of these main characters (minus Addison's marriage to Jake at the end obviously.) happened prior to this date. That way the characters still have their "History". Going to say it's been several years since Addison and Derek broke up. Initially Addison and Mark lived together in LA but moved back to Seattle when their mentor Richard Webber needed them to work at the hospital. Traveling back to LA to seek fertility treatments but living and working in Seattle. Addison and Mark are now married. Derek and Meredith are married and off living their best life working on a promising clinical trial in Portland, Oregon. I hope this makes more sense, and better explains the weird mixture of Private Practice and Grey's Anatomy characters.

* * *

**Addison 15 weeks**

* * *

"You're in pain." Mark observes.

"I'm OK."

"You haven't left the couch other than to go to the bathroom in days, you are barley eating, what can I do to help?"

"You know…. I'm trying to watch America's Got Talent. You could go away, that would be a big help, you're standing in front of the TV." I say, and he frowns, turning to look at the TV, and then taking the remote and switching it off. "Hey!" I protest.

"We need to talk Addison."

"No, we _don't_. I'm fine." I say, trying to sound confident. I'm not _'fine'_ though. Maybe I'm depressed, or maybe I am just lonely, maybe I'm afraid, but I'm not _'fine'_.

"You promised you would be honest with me." He says forcefully. The pamphlets, and other paperwork from the hospital is scattered across the coffee table, I was reading them earlier, trying to weigh my options. Funny how they all list depression as a side effect of cancer. I remember reading something a few years back. A teenager was dying of cancer and had said _'Depression is not a side effect of cancer. It's a side effect of dying.'_ Maybe I am thinking about this the wrong way. I am struggling to keep optimistic 'Everything is going to be fine.' Attitude I had adopted shortly after diagnosis. I don't know how to say what I need. I uncurl slowly and sit up, so he can take the space beside me.

"I need you to stop treating me like a fragile… damaged…." I start, but I can't find the right words. The last three days have been unbearable. We were in the shower; the heat caused my blood pressure to drop and I nearly passed out. He grabbed my arm to keep me from falling, causing me to cry out in pain. That frightened him. I don't know that he grabbed me particularly hard, but my upper arm instantly bruised up, with an angry, red handprint wrapped around, that has, in the days since turned into an interesting shade of plum. He's afraid to touch me now, even more so than before, as in, goes out of his way to avoid physical contact. I just want him to hold me, reassure me things are going to be ok.

"I _hurt_ you."

"_No, you didn't_. Bruises happen, there's no way to prevent that. It's the nature of the _disease_."

"I'm sure your arm would beg to differ."

"It doesn't hurt." I say, shrugging, or it could be that the rest of me hurts so much that one more thing isn't really all that noticeable. I am not sure which is the larger truth.

"You're a bad liar." He says, leaning over and kissing me, so gently on the forehead, a small step from the three days of nothing. He won't even let me snuggle too close to him in bed. I swear he would wrap me head to toe in bubble wrap if he didn't think I would suffocate. I sigh in frustration, wrapping my arms around his neck, and pull him down on top of me, kissing him on the lips, just wanting to feel them again. He gives me a look of confliction, resisting, but then he kisses me back. We pull apart for a moment and our eyes meet.

"I'm not going to break Mark." I say.

"But you are… breaking. You're so warm, do you feel OK?" He asks in a concerned murmur. I sigh in dismay and let him go, allowing myself to fall back against the couch, and resting my head on the pillow I had laid on the arm rest, looking blankly at the empty television screen.

"I'm fine. Just forget it." I say, debating getting up and going into the bedroom, I am suddenly so tired.

"What do you want from me?!" He demands. His voice breaking. The issue of the possible fever going temporarily forgotten.

"Nothing, I said forget it." I curl up again, getting back into that comfortable position. He sits on the edge of the couch beside me, making room. We need a bigger couch. There was never really a need for something larger, being close wasn't an issue before.

"Obviously, something? What is it?" He is getting frustrated, but I don't care. "I just don't want to hurt you Addison, I don't want you to hurt yourself by not getting the medical treatments you so desperately need, it that really so hard to accept?"

"You are hurting me though… you don't trust me." I murmur, and then just wanting him to shut up about the subject "Let's go to Italy, let's go on that honeymoon we never got to take."

"As soon as you're stronger we can, we'll go anywhere you want." He promises. Well that didn't work out. I don't know what I was expecting him to say.

"No. I mean… I want to go now."

"Addison -"

"Please Mark - could we go for a short time? Even just a week? I don't want to die without seeing -" I start coughing hard, moving my hand to my mouth to cover it. When I pull it away, it is splattered with crimson blood. We look at each other, mutual shock, I start to cry, and he springs into action.

"OK that's it, we're going to the hospital." He helps me to sit back up and rubs my back until the coughing has stopped. He goes to the bathroom, wets a washcloth, and brings it to me, gently wiping the blood from my face, and hands me a second for my hands.

"No Mark… please…." I beg. "It's probably just _Hematemesis_, completely common when you've been throwing up as much as I have." My own fault. The most commonly used drug for morning sickness 'Zofran' comes with a whole page of possible side effects, that I don't particularly want to add to my list of issues. _If _I ever go back to work again, no I quickly correct myself, _When_ I go to work again, I won't be quite as quick to tell women the sickness should ease up after the first trimester.  
"Are you _trying _to die?" He asks, handing me a thermometer, I put it under my tongue, obediently, but roll my eyes at them all the same. When It beeps, I hand it back to him without even looking at the number on the tiny little screen. "101.5" He says. Shaking his head.

"So, I'll take a Tylenol. I'm not trying to _speed up the process_ Mark. I just don't see the point in subjecting myself to so many additional germs I can't fight off, subjecting the moms and other babies to whatever the hell I caught when this is _probably_ something completely ordinary." Arizona said if anything came up, that was not a life or death emergency, that I should go straight to L&D, even though I am not yet 20 weeks. The rest of the team agreed it would be safest. L&D has its own ventilation system that is separate from the germs of the rest of the hospital.

"Were going. Addie, I'm sorry. I have to make the choice for both of us now."

"Didn't I just see you last week?" Arizona asks, jokingly, walking over to my bedside. She sees the blood on my top her mouth forms a little 'o', and her expression says, 'so that's what we're doing.' She isn't nearly as skilled at keeping her facial expressions in check with adults as she is with children.

"She's weak, throwing up blood, having extreme sickness and her fever was 101.5 when we left the house." Mark says, before I can say anything at all. I had had another coughing fit in the car, and we had to pull over to the side of the road until it subsided. Arizona starts the exam, taking my vitals, which weren't great, to examining the bruises, which was mortifying. To feeling my neck and shining a light down my throat.

"How long has your throat been hurting?" She asks me.

"I don't know, it doesn't hurt any worse than normal why?"

"You have a raging case of strep throat, that's casing the additional sickness and coughing. You have deep lesions in the back of your throat. Let me check baby, and then we will come up with a game plan." She says, leaning me back so she can listen for baby's heartbeat.

"Addison you have to breathe, you're going to pass out." She reminds me, it seems like we go through this everytime. Maybe when he is bigger, when I can feel him moving, I will be less anxious in the time just before I can hear his heart beating. She frowns as she moves the fetal doppler around. Relief as I hear his heartbeat flood the room is quickly replaced with fear.

"Arizona what is the machine reading? It sounds like tachycardia do you hear it?"

"Yes, it's mild, but it's there. Could be due to the infection, + low platelets." She says shaking her head. "Damn."

"I only need oxygen, blood and fluids, a broad-spectrum antibiotic, and Tylenol to keep the fever from rising. I'm fine." I say, trying to reassure Mark, who looks scared to death.

"Only-" He responds, weakly. It's odd how one can be the most brilliant doctor in the world, and do so many wonderful things, and completely melt and freeze when it is your own loved one on the examination table?

"She's going to be ok Mark; it just would have been easier on them both if she had come in sooner is all." Arizona says, trying to sound optimistic, "Mark, you should go get some coffee or something. Addison is going to be fine I won't leave her until you get back." Arizona says. "I don't want you passing out and ending up in the germ filled ER." She explains. I notice just how white he's gone.

"It's alright Mark… go ahead, I would like a green juice if you're going to the cafeteria, and find me a pair of clean scrubs, or something." I say, he protests for a moment, not wanting to leave me, but then nods, kissing me, telling me he'll be right back and leaving the room.

"OK close your eyes." Arizona says, she had put in the order for the medication while she was talking to Mark, and a nurse brings in the requested blood, fluids, medications, and a lab kit.

"I am a doctor you know." I protest. "You don't have to treat me like a child."

"Trust me, it will make you feel better about me taking this much blood from you." She says and doesn't begin until I close my eyes. She inserts the IV triple lumen catheter into the vein in my arm and takes what seems like an endless amount of blood. "OK- you can open your eyes, wasn't that better?" She asks, and I don't want to admit it, but actually it was. I guess it's something different when it's your own blood. She hooks everything up, and a shiver goes up my spine as she opens the lines and the fluids make their way through my veins. She helps me sit up and attaches the blue and pink bands around my stomach, holding the NST sensors in place on my stomach, she hooks it to the machine, and hooks me up to a nasal cannula for oxygen. An intern comes and takes the plastic bags with the bloodwork vials in them. Arizona reminds him he needs to walk them down personally and put a rush on them.

"Ari- if anything happens, if you have to make the choice between me and Ollie-" I say, she turns up the volume and the sound of his heartbeat blasts from the monitor like the most beautiful melody.

"Were not there yet Addison. I don't want you to worry about that now."

"Just… if you do…. when the time comes… I need you to choose Ollie, and you can't tell Mark, that we had this discussion. He…. wouldn't understand."

"You're giving up." She clarifies.

"I'm being realistic." I correct her. "I can't sign a DNR until he has reached viability, it would kill Mark if we both died, and all of this was for noting, but I can tell you my wishes, since you will almost certainly be the one delivering."

"Let me get the oncology team down here. We can discuss your options for starting induction chemotherapy treatment once the infection has cleared."

"I don't want chemo Arizona…. I've been more than clear about that."

"You're afraid."

"Wouldn't you be?"

"I would be terrified." Arizona agrees. Studying me carefully.

"So, why are you pushing this so hard?" I demand.

"Because right now, now you're just sick. You're not dying Addison, not yet, possibly not ever, you're too mean, but definitely not today." She says sitting down next to the bed, forcing me to look at her. "You have to do what's best for _you_ right now Addison."

"I can't. It's not about me right now." I say in disagreement, looking up at the monitors. His heartrate is back within normal range, I allow myself to relax, just a little bit.

"How are you helping him by killing yourself?" She asks, shaking her head, and walking out of the room, mumbling something like _"I have to go check on your labs."_

* * *

I am just starting to doze off when Amelia comes into the room, walks to me quickly, and then stops just before grabbing me and very gently hugs me, as if reminding herself she has to be extra super baby gentle now. I try not to show my frustration with her for this.

"I'm sorry, I was in surgery, I came as soon as I could."

"Don't come too close, I'm contagious, it's just strep. They shouldn't have bothered you. You're working, your patients are more important." I say this quickly, relieved when she backs away a little bit. My voice is horse, but they gave me something strong to suppress the sporadic coughing fits. I am thankful to have this little bit of relief.

"I'm your sister." She says, as if that is enough. The fact that she even considers me her sister still after all the divorce is something.

"How's the rugrat doing?" She asks,

"He was tachycardia earlier, but he recovered quickly once medication was started." I gesture up to the bags dripping into my vein.

"That's good Addison, that he's OK I mean." She says, looking approvingly at the monitors. I can almost feel her let out a sign of relief. "He's a fighter, just like his Momma."

"Fuck." I don't know why, but a sudden realization hits me, and it is overwhelming.

"What?"

"Derek doesn't know about any of this. Not that I'm sick, not that I'm pregnant, nothing. Do you think he'd even want to know?" Where does the line cross between ex-wife and friend?

"I'm sure he would. God knows you were married to him for long enough."

"I haven't heard from him in a while." Derek and Meredith had moved to Portland for a groundbreaking job opportunity, a few months before all of this went down. I wonder if someone would have told him. No. If someone told him surely, he would have called. I am drawn out of my thoughts by a bag opening and crunching. "I guess they've been working a lot of hours on the clinical trials."

"Did you tell Bizzy and the Captain? Have you told Archer?" She asks, and I look down, ashamed. I haven't told anyone. The only ones that know are those working _directly_ on my case, Richard, and well, Amelia knows because she lives with me and most of the hospital knows because it is Seattle Grace Mercy Rumor Mill. As far as family goes. Not yet.

"I don't know what to tell them, and anyway I'm going to be fine." I say, trying to be optimistic for her. She has already faced so much loss in her life, losing the love of her life, and her newborn son. Losing her father at such a young age, and growing up without him, the black sheep of the family. Never quite living up to what her mother or older siblings expected of her. God. Does that not sound familiar? I don't want to cause her more pain, more heartache until it is absolutely necessary.

"Unless you're, not, right?" Amelia asks, her voice cracking, showing vulnerability that she so often tries to hide through her over the top personality or deflecting with humor and sarcasm.

"Right." I whisper, looking away. She is too attached to me, always has been. "Listen to me Amelia." I force myself to look up at her, her eyes are moist. She climbs up on the hospital bed next to me and lays her head on my shoulder. "Everything is going to be fine. I'm ok." I say, rubbing her back, trying to soothe the tears. I try to soothe her, to stop her tears, but after a while I hold her in silence and let her cry.

"You're my sister." She whispers through the tears.

"I'll always be your sister Amelia, how my story ends isn't going to change that."

* * *

**Authors Note: **

Thank you to everyone who has read Don't Hold Me! Please take a second to review and let me know how you're feeling about this story so far. I really love Addison and Amelia. They're just sweet. I think Mark is overwhelmed with everything that is going on, he wants to protect Addison, just wants everything to be normal again.


End file.
